I Don't Want This to be The End
by Alertbay
Summary: What if Harry gives up but Ruth isn't ready to? Will she fight to win the man she loves?  Will this be the end or can they find a new beginning?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ruth stormed up to the front door knocking twice and then again twice more. After the sixth rap, the door opened to reveal Harry, clad in beige chinos and a sky blue golf shirt.

"Ruth!" he exclaimed, surprise in his eyes.

"You resigned?" she questioned him, allowing her wrath and disgust to be plainly evident in her voice.

Harry walked away without a word, leaving the front door. Hesitating, she followed him into his lounge, finding him sitting on his blue-grey couch, flipping through documents in a file folder, scrunching the occasional page and throwing it into the open fireplace.

Ruth slipped her coat down her arms and sat on the soft chair across from him.

"Harry, you resigned?" Her voice was gentler this time but still demanded an answer.

Not looking up, Harry responded, continuing to flip through the documents before him, "They gave me the opportunity and I took it."

Ruth could feel frustration warring with the anger within her. "Why?" she demanded to know.

Stilling his hands, Harry glanced up once. "I don't have the energy to fight anymore." And then he looked up to meet her angry gaze. "The Service has taken—No, I've given away everything to the Service. I've lost my friends, my wife, my children. I've lost you. I've nothing left. I'm fifty—something or other, and I'm left with nothing."

Ruth's anger began to drain away. "You have me."

Harry released a wry chuckle. "As a friend—no, not even a friend, a colleague; some impossible relationship that tears me to shreds. No! I don't want it Ruth. I love you. I would have married you and taken everything I've learned in my sad and sorry life to make you happy but you didn't want it. Don't want me." Harry shrugged, dropping his gaze to his stilled fingers, perhaps studying them for a solution to the mystery of his life. "Why should you be any different from anyone else?"

Ruth's heart ached in her chest at his sad and hopeless words. "You need me. We need each other."

Harry's eyes were soft, vulnerable, as he met her gaze again. "No. I don't need you. I thought I did but what I really need is to make peace with my past."

Ruth froze. She didn't know if her body flinched from the verbal slap, as gentle as it was, but her soul cringed within her.

Harry stood and retrieved a paper bag from the corner of the room behind him. He handed it to her and instructed, "Look what I bought yesterday."

She opened the bag to reveal a book, turning it over to read the cover. _What to expect when you're expecting._ "A pregnancy book?" she asked, utterly confused.

"I missed it all when my children were small, when Jane was pregnant. Well, now Catherine's pregnant. She and Fabian are getting married. They're moving to the UK to be closer to family when the baby comes. She's letting me into her life, Ruth. I can't pass up this opportunity. I was a bad father but maybe I can be a good grandfather."

Ruth caressed the cover of the book and placed it on the coffee table. "Graham?"

Harry brushed his hands over his face, absent-mindedly playing with the corners of the pages in the book. "He's in Rehab again. Rather a captive audience." He chuckled wryly again. He seemed full of a mild bitterness, a Guinness of the heart. "He's so bored that he actually welcomes my visits. We built a model of a Bugatti Veyron together yesterday and when I left, I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. Do you realize, Ruth, how long it's been since I told my own son that I love him?"

"Is that really going to fulfill you for the next twenty years?" she asked. "Trying to rebuild some lost moment in time?" She could feel her anger building again.

"I'm not looking for fulfillment or even redemption as you may accuse me next. I reneged on my responsibilities as a younger man but I won't anymore. It was my job to protect my family and I realize now that I didn't. I thought I did. I kept them separate from my work, from the danger and intrigue, but that's not what they needed. They needed me and I let them down."

Ruth stood abruptly. "So, you're giving up?"

"Giving up what?" he replied, looking up to meet her angry gaze. "I have nothing."

"This is the life you want?" she asked skeptically.

"No, Ruth, it's not the life I want but the choices I've made seem to have disqualified me from all other possibilities."

Ruth's phone buzzed indicating a text received. She pulled it out and made her excuses. He escorted her to the door and she was certain that she saw a look of regret in his eyes before he shut it behind her.

The message had called her back to the Grid. There was a new threat on the horizon but she couldn't seem to move. She remained frozen, facing away from the front door of his house.

The repeat message on her mobile pulled her from her paralysis. "So that is that," she told herself.

_But NO! I don't want that to be that. I don't want that to be the end._


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting in the afternoon briefing, Ruth's mind was far far away from thermobaric bombs and Al Qaeda. _'I would have married you and taken everything I've learned in my sad and sorry life to make you happy but you didn't want it. Don't want me.'_

"Ruth!" Alec's annoyed voice finally filtered through to her ears.

"What?" she snapped in response.

"Have you or have you not completed your analysis of the Sheffield cell?"

"Yes. Yes, it's here," she replied, handing over the appropriate file and standing, walking out of the room much to her colleagues' astonishment.

"Right, well—" She heard as she made her way to her desk, the pods and then out into the street. Hesitating, she turned left and then right, walking and riding and wandering along the Thames.

Want. Don't want. Need. Don't need.

Ruth found herself at the Embankment, chased there by her questions, finally halting, succumbing to the inner interrogation.

_Who is Harry Pearce? What does he mean to me? A crush? An infatuation? When it actually came down to it, I didn't want the life that went with him. But still, through Cotterdam, through Cyprus, in another man's bed, I never forgot him, never removed him from my heart. _

_What is Harry Pearce? A boss, a man—the man who sent young people to their deaths; the man who risked his own life and reputation to save his people—their people—many many people._

_Where is Harry Pearce? Away from here. Away from me._

_When is Harry Pearce? He is the Cold War, the War on Terror, and the time between._

_How is Harry Pearce? Sad. So very sad._

_Why?_

Ruth shook herself into motion again. Too many questions. No answers.

Ruth returned to work, refusing to be drawn into conversation, completing the days' tasks and making her way home—On the bus. _'Nice night out.'_ Ruth sighed deeply, remembering that bus ride so many years ago when Harry needed her.

She asked the question once again. _Why?_ _Why did he feel he had the right to propose? He truly did become a friend. Perhaps it was an unbalanced friendship because he was always the boss, but he did listen to me, share with me, laugh with me—listen to me. But a lover? A husband?_

_Why? Why did I refuse his marriage proposal? Fear? Loathing? Disgust? Self-disgust. How could I find a way to happiness when so many others, my colleagues, my friends, my lover did not?_

_Why? Why did I blame the great Harry Pearce? For his cold-hearted decisions? For his ruthlessness? RUTH-LESS-NESS…_

_Why? Why do I love him anyway?_


	3. Chapter 3

Five days and seventeen attempts to dial the phone later, Ruth strengthened her resolve, trying to ignore the rhythm of her heart which seemed to be circulating her blood everywhere except her brain, which is where she needed it the most. _No. Perhaps that's been the problem all along. Too much thinking._

"Hello."

"H—H—" she gasped.

"Hello?"

Ruth cleared her throat. "He—hello Harry." She paused awaiting his response, met only with silence. "It's Ruth."

"Yes," he acknowledged tonelessly.

Drawing in a deep breath she released the words rapid-fire, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Silence for a time. She held her breath, worrying her lip with her teeth.

"No, thank you, Ruth. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh. Okay," she replied.

"Good-bye."

"Bye." She never knew if her mouth actually released the word before he rang off.

Three weeks and seventeen attempts later, she knocked again on his front door.

"Ruth?" he greeted her, surprise in his eyes.

She pulled a bottle out of the cloth bag she carried. "Harry, would you have a drink with me?" she asked, holding up the bottle of white burgundy so that he could clearly read the label.

"I've got Graham with me. No alcohol in the house," he explained, his feelings reinserted behind a mask of calm.

"Oh. Really?" she questioned.

He released one dry chuckle. "You don't have to sound so surprised." And then his face darkened. "I am capable of acts of self-sacrifice for those I love. And not everyone is appalled by that idea."

Her heart plummeted, the whirlpool that was her belly pulling it down. "I didn't mean—tea?"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"We could have tea," she suggested.

"You're inviting yourself into my home for tea?" he inquired.

"No—no—well—" she stuttered.

"Dad!" A voice called from inside the house.

"Coming, son," Harry replied, looking back over his shoulder. "I'm needed."

"Yes, of course. I'm glad he's doing better," Ruth asserted.

Harry's gaze lightened momentarily at her words. "Good-bye."

"Bye."

_Why? Why am I doing this? He's making his feelings clear. _Ruth spun about and walked one street over and two streets down to the nearest bus stop. _No. He made his feelings clear when he risked his life, his career, everything to save me. Now, he's just trying to cope with what I've done—with what I've done to him._

_Lucas told me to be selfish for once but he had it reversed. I have selfishly kept any man from owning my heart. George gave me his body, his home, his affection, his son. I gave him companionship but he never came close to owning a piece of me. Harry. Harry terrifies me._

_No. No, Lucas was wrong. It is selfishness that has brought me to this point. Well, perhaps not selfishness. But whatever the reason, I have refused to deal with my own personal issues, my psychological road blocks and defense mechanisms. I have deeply hurt a man I admire, a man I care for. A man—__**the**__ man I love. Why?_

Seventeen days later, Ruth stood over the stove not stirring the sauce for the spaghetti.

"Ruth. Ruth! What is wrong with you?" Beth chastised her flat-mate, turning off the burner and moving the pot of sauce into the sink. "You have been a zombie for weeks now. Ever since—"

It was Beth's silence that got Ruth's attention rather than her words of reprimand. "What?" Ruth asked, finally meeting Beth's gaze.

Beth's voice was softer as she asked, "What's wrong, Ruth?"

"Beth, have you ever broken a man's heart?" Ruth asked, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Beth's face.

Beth responded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes. Once."

"How did you fix it?" Ruth inquired earnestly.

"I didn't. Once you ask a man to become vulnerable, particularly a man who is unused to allowing emotion to rule his intellect, and then humiliate his love, there is no way back. I grieved for him but, eventually, I let him go."

"I think I've destroyed my one chance at happiness." Tears formed in the corners of Ruth's eyes.

"There is never only one way, Ruth," Beth responded gently.

Ruth released a long sigh. "You're right. But what if the opportunity I passed up—the man I hurt—what if he's the chance I want to take."

Beth shook her head. "What will you do? You can't force him to trust you again. You'd have to start all over, right from the beginning." Beth rested her hand on Ruth's shoulder. "Let him go, Ruth. Move on and let him move on. He deserves some happiness." Beth moved away and Ruth soon heard the front door open and close, marking Beth's exit from the flat.

'_You'd have to start all over, right from the beginning.'_

_Well, I can't do that. I can't wander into a meeting late and drop my files all over the place. _Start over. Start over.

Ruth snapped her fingers. _Of course!_


	4. Chapter 4

Ruth had begun taking lunch breaks, supper breaks and even tea breaks at irregular times of the day so that she could complete her research. She had spent the previous fortnight analyzing every green space within Harry's neighbourhood, learning where he walked, when he walked and with whom.

Now she stood, manila file folders in hand (filled with scrap printer paper from home) and a Styrofoam cup of tea in her other hand. She waited, peering around the bush until she saw the two men and the little dog. She knew that within the next five metres or so, one of the men would throw the rubber ball and the little dog would chase it.

One, two—the third throw projected the ball in her direction. She released a breath held in anticipation and nerves and stepped out, directly into the little dog's path, allowing herself to be tripped, dropping her files and cup of tepid tea onto the ground around herself and Scarlett, the Jack Russell Terrier.

Soon, two younger hands were helping her up.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Your files! Scarlett, you bad dog. Dad, you really should train her better," Graham reprimanded his father and pet.

As Graham helped Ruth to her feet, Harry froze, half of her files gathered in his hands as their eyes met for a moment. Suspicion positively oozed from his face, voice and manner.

"Ru—" he began.

She cut him off, extending her hand to Graham. "My name is Ruth, Ruth Evershed. It was my fault, not the little dog's. I wasn't paying attention. I have a habit of doing that."

"Mind always on higher things," Graham responded, shaking her hand and smiling companionably. "I'm Graham Pearce." He turned aside to indicate his father. "This is my father, Harry, the owner of the little beast."

"Nice to meet you, Harry." She didn't attempt to shake his hand. Ruth chuckled nervously. "Again, I'm sorry. Thank you for your help." She stacked the few files she'd collected in her arm and made to walk away.

"Wait," Graham stopped her. "You must let us buy you a new—tea, was it?" he asked.

"Yes. Tea." She tried to meet Harry's gaze but he avoided her eyes, returning to his task of gathering the remaining files, handing them over to Graham who gave him a funny look and then passed them over to Ruth. "Really, don't bother. It was cold anyway. I'll make a fresh pot when I get home."

"Are you certain?" Graham asked.

"Yes, of course. Thank you. Good day, Graham and—" She gulped. "Harry."

She could feel Harry's cold and confused eyes boring into her back as she walked away. STEP ONE. Complete. She thought she heard Graham chastising his father for rudeness as she departed but she wasn't certain that she had heard anything accurately over the rush of blood in her ears.

It took six days for her to recover from the nerves of "Step One". Finally, she felt that she was able to cope with "Step Two".

Ruth spent ninety minutes amongst the tomatoes and cucumbers before he finally appeared. Harry seemed to do a substantial shop at the grocery store once every two weeks with infrequent trips to the local convenience in between. She knew he liked tomatoes, so here she stood for the fourth evening in a row.

"Oh, hello," she greeted him, popping up from behind the tomato stand.

"Ruth!" he responded.

"You recall my name," she responded, trying to sound pleased to be remembered. "It _was_ you at the park the other day, wasn't it? You and your son?"

Harry stepped up close, anger bursting through his calm exterior. He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her close. "What do you think you're playing at?"

She breathed deeply to try and remain calm but her heart was playing a tattoo against her ribs and each breath stuck for a moment at her tightened larynx. "Maybe—" She cleared her throat to get her voice working. "Maybe when you've hurt someone—deeply—disappointed them—you have to go back to the beginning—start again—And then, maybe—if the reasons you fell in love still exist then—you'll fall in love all over again. If you don't, then maybe it wasn't love in the first place."

Harry pulled her minutely closer and she watched his jaw clench, and then tilting her head slightly higher, she thought she could see the smoke rising from his smouldering eyes. "Leave me alone," he commanded but she could hear the insincerity in his voice.

"Ma'am, are you all right?" a man asked—quite a large man, in fact. Harry looked as though he wanted to smash the interloper in the jaw but instead chose to release her arm, shaking his head and walking away.

"I'm fine, thank you," she reported.

"Sure?" the man asked gently.

"Yes, thank you," she confirmed. STEP TWO. Completed.

She was still shaking when she walked through the door of her flat.

_If the reasons you fell in love still exist then you'll fall in love all over again. If you don't, then maybe it wasn't love in the first place._


	5. Chapter 5

STEP THREE. Ruth hadn't wanted to let too much time pass between her "statement of intent" at the grocery store and her next attempted contact with the mark, Harry Pearce, but she was quite nervous. Harry had been very angry, blending in amongst the crimson red tomatoes, and she knew that his temper could go nuclear when ignited.

Nervously, she bought a coffee and found her way to the table at the rear of the café. She mentally smiled. _Once a spook, always a spook, _she mused, noting Harry's position in the room, back to the wall, beside the fire exit, beneath the dimmest light in the room.

Several paces away, he spotted her, sighing heavily in response. She braced herself and finished the journey to the empty seat across the table from him.

"May I join you?" she asked, her voice trembling in spite of her efforts.

"How long will this go on, Ruth?" Harry asked wearily and Ruth relaxed somewhat at the absence of fury in his manner.

"Until we're both certain," she responded.

"Certain," he repeated, pursing his lips and erasing any emotion from his face as he gestured for her to sit.

Her heart sang a song of victory. STEP THREE. Completed.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Fine. You?" he asked in reply, his voice polite but reserved.

"I notice Graham's not with you?"

"No. He's gone to visit his mom for a few days."

"Did you have a good time with him?"

"Yes."

She groped in silence for a few minutes, sipping her coffee. He wasn't going to make this easy but at least he was being polite. "How is Catherine? Any morning sickness?"

Harry's gaze softened for a moment and then slipped back into "social, with no emotional connection". "She's doing well. Morning sickness—Yes, with sickness being the operative word. She's ill throughout the day but the doctor's telling her that it will pass."

Ruth drained her cup. "I hope she feels better soon. It was good to see you, Harry. Thank you for the seat. Bye." She rose and departed, not missing the astonishment on his face. She could feel his eyes on her all the way to the door. _Astonishment is better than anger or sorrow._

Three days later, Ruth returned to the café, purchasing a coffee and making her way to Harry's table.

"Ruth," he greeted her, his voice formal.

"May I join you?" she asked steadily. He gestured his permission. "How are you?" she inquired.

"Fine. You?" he responded.

"I—uh—I had a cold for a couple of days," she replied.

A look of worry flashed across his visage but he quickly dispelled it. "Feeling better now?" he inquired. After she nodded, he asked, "Did you miss any work?"

"Not for the cold. They are getting rather impatient with my coffee breaks, though."

"What do—" He stopped. "You're supposed to be at work? Right now?"

Ruth blushed and nodded once. "What have you been up to?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm retired," he responded wryly.

"Of course. Not writing your memoirs?" she inquired, letting a hint of playfulness enter her voice.

He studied her for a moment, his face grave, and she thought that he had misjudged her intention. Abruptly, he dropped his head but when he looked up there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. "No. No memoirs." He paused again and she thought that perhaps it was time to finish her coffee and leave but he had more to say. "Models." Her confusion must have shown because he clarified. "I'm building a model of the Avro Arrow, you know, the Canadian spy plane?"

"Models," she repeated. "I hope that I can see it one day." She drained her cup. "I should get back to work. Bye Harry."

"Good-bye Ruth."

The next three days, she met him for coffee. He was always there at the same table, at the same café, at the same time. Their conversations were short, polite and reserved.

On the fourth day, he was waiting with a cup of coffee and two scones. "I thought you might be hungry," he greeted her as she made her way over, a coffee in her hand.

"Thank you. I am actually. How are you? Is Graham back?" she asked.

"He's talking about getting a flat nearby. I've offered to help him until he gets a job. We'll see. And you? How are you today?"

"We've a visit from the Lord High Executioner this afternoon. Apparently, 'D' has been less efficient over the past three months and he's very concerned."

Harry released a small grin. "Heaven forfend! You should probably get back then."

She studied his face, concerned by his words. "I would rather stay if it's all the same to you," she offered quietly.

"Fine," he responded, his voice light and easy.

She watched him closely but he seemed relaxed, more relaxed actually than she'd seen him in weeks, maybe months. "How is your model coming?"

"Graham took the tail off. Told me I'd put it together wrong. Should be finished soon—unless he decides to critique the rest of it." He reached the end of his cup and the end of his scone.

She smiled at him. "I should go. It was lovely to see you, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he repeated and then released a very small smile.

Her heart swelled within her chest. STEP FOUR. Hope.


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth caught herself smiling on the bus into work. Smiling. She sighed happily. She and Harry had been meeting for coffee daily for the past three weeks, even on Saturday and Sunday. Their conversations were getting longer and warmer and, scattered here and there, was laughter. They were discussing all the things that people discuss when they first meet: what books are you reading; what's your favourite colour, car and movie; do you like Italian food. It was mundane—And it was wonderful!

Her colleagues had given up fussing about her long midmorning breaks when they saw her step out of the security pods with a smile on her face. Her Section Head was happy because she was focused at work and completing her tasks with reputed brilliance.

Today, she planned to ask Harry to meet her after work for supper and a walk along the Thames. She squeezed her hands into fists to keep from clapping in joy. Her musings were interrupted by her ringing mobile.

"Ruth, it's Harry. I won't be able to make coffee today. Catherine's been having some trouble and they've admitted her to hospital. It's the baby. I'm going over to be with her."

"Of course. Oh, Harry, that's awful. Please let me know what happens."

"I will." He rang off.

Ruth clutched the phone to her chest. No coffee. Catherine in distress. Harry. _Has he always been this man? Or has forced retirement brought out the good in him?—Or is this what he meant when he told me that you sometimes have to let a man show you who he really is?_

The day passed slowly and Ruth was left with lots of time to think as she compiled threat ratings for the afternoon briefing. Completing that, she started to compile a new list, a list of a thousand reasons to say 'no' to Harry Pearce. Once she'd filled one page, she flipped it over and started a new list, one reason to say 'yes'. Alec walked over at that moment and she folded it quickly, slipping it into her bag.

"Briefing," Alec informed her as he passed. She gathered her files and followed him into the meeting room, presenting her analysis when it was requested and keeping her mind focused on Al Qaeda, the west and the east.

As soon as she could get away from the Grid, she made her way to Harry's house, rapping twice on the door.

"Yes?" Graham greeted her, opening the door while trying to keep Scarlett from jumping past him.

"Hello, is Harry available?" Ruth asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. Wait. You're the woman from the park."

"Ruth."

"Ruth," he repeated softly. "You've become the 'coffee lady', haven't you?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"The coffee lady?" she questioned.

"Sure. My father disappears every morning at 9:30, supposedly for coffee, but his coffee breaks keep taking longer and longer and he comes back looking more and more relaxed. He was actually whistling and smiling the other day. Very odd behaviour for my father." Graham shook his head in wonder. He met her gaze. "Would you like to come in?"

"No. No, thank you. I don't want to intrude. But, if I could ask, how is your sister doing?"

"Out of danger. Dad's still with her."

"And you?" Ruth inquired.

"I—uh—I don't like hospitals. Too many bad memories." He shuddered visibly. "Cate understands."

"I actually meant to ask how you're doing?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"You've spent—" She counted on her fingers. "How many days alone with Harry Pearce? How are you holding up?"

Graham smiled and his entire face lit up. _He is a handsome young man when he shifts the belligerence from his brow._ "Good, I guess. He's a hard man, my father. But he's trying. Instead of leaving, he stays and fights." Graham chuckled acerbically. "And he stays focused."

"What do you mean, focused?"

"He refuses to be drawn into any topic but the one under discussion. I think maybe he's been listening in on my therapy sessions." Graham appeared startled for a moment. "Was that my 'outside' voice?" He gasped. "I can't believe I'm telling you this on the doorstep."

Ruth leaned forward, resting her hand on his forearm. "Your secret is safe with me, Graham."

Graham's eyes narrowed again, muttering, "Secrets. You worked with my father, didn't you?" he asked suspiciously.

Now it was Ruth's turn to be startled. "I—uh—you—"

He chuckled dryly. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." The telephone rang inside the house. "Excuse me. That might be about my sister. Nice to meet you again, Ruth."

"Nice to meet you again, Graham." She smiled warmly and he nodded as he closed the door.

_So, no Harry._ Ruth made her way home, deciding that, rather than sitting at home awaiting Harry's call, she would go to the cinema.

Emerging two hours later, she shook her head in disgust at what the critics called "award-winning drama". Feeling hungry, she stopped for a pasta and then made her way home, surprised that Harry still had not contacted her. _Maybe things aren't going as well between us as I'd hoped. But he did call me this morning. _Ruth sighed. _Maybe it's not really worth all of this, this feeling in the pit of my stomach from one day of lost contact? Seriously? _Ruth crawled into bed determined to put her thoughts away. _This is ridiculous. _Grumpily, she rolled onto her side, pushing Harry aside and willing herself to sleep. Her last thoughts kept her from repose: self-reproach for thinking about what Harry was to her when Catherine lay in the hospital in distress. Ruth began to cry.

Groaning into the morning, Ruth's hand flapped onto the bedside table trying to locate her mobile to still the shrill beeping.

"H'lo?" she anwered.

"Ruth, we need you here."

"Who needs me where?" she mumbled in response.

"Ruth! This is Alec. We need you on the Grid as soon as possible. I'm sending a car."

"Fine." She rang off and rolled out of bed grumpy from lack of sleep and lack of Harry Pearce.

Showering and dressing, Ruth grabbed a stale croissant from the bread box and moved out of the house just as she heard the honk of the car horn signaling the arrival of her ride to work. Settling into the back seat, she leaned her head against the window, enjoying the smooth coolness against her throbbing forehead. Her mobile rang again.

"Hello?" she greeted.

"Ruth, are you on your way?"

"Yes, Alec."

"Good," he approved, ringing off.

Almost immediately, it rang again. She punched the button violently. "I'm coming!"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, Mr. Home Secretary, I'm so sorry. What can I do for you, sir?"

"The DG has been hospitalized. I would like you to stop by on your way past and get the details from the attending physician."

"Yes, sir. Of course." She punched the red button and then the green. "Alec? The Home Secretary has asked me to stop off and get the details on the DG. What happened?"

"It sounds to me like he had a stroke. That's why I called you in. Come to the Grid when you're finished with the quacks."

"All right. See you later."

Ruth made her way into the bustling sterility of one satellite of the UK's health system. Using her badge to convey authority and entitlement, Ruth was led to the appropriate physician and informed of the DG's status. She made notes, thanked the doctor and then made her way back outside to the waiting car and onto the Grid.

Walking through the pods, she dumped her coat on her desk and walked into the meeting room, joining the others. As soon as she sat, Alec grabbed her mobile from its spot on the table beside her notes. Two buttons later, he turned it to Ruth, informing her caustically, "You have two voice messages and three texts from me, Ruth. Where have you been?"

"I was in bed sleeping, if you must know. I didn't sleep well last night and so I must not have heard the phone. Sorry," she said, sounding very unapologetic as she retrieved her mobile. Ignoring Alec's look of irritation, she began to delete each and every message, pausing when she saw a text from—Harry?

HOME. LATE. CATH & BABY WELL. COFFEE?

Her heart melted within her. Continuing to ignore Alec's briefing, she returned the message. DG ILL. GLAD C & B WELL. WILL CALL. Within minutes she'd received an, OK.

Hiding her smile, she returned her mind to the fate of MI-5 as determined by the critical condition of the Lord High Executioner, the Director General.


	7. Chapter 7

The DG was still listed in critical condition and the doctors were not optimistic. The Chairman of the JIC was to be contacted on any issues requiring the authority of the Director General but he was strongly encouraging every section to 'Keep Calm and Carry on'.

Once the day's chaos had settled, Ruth decided that, rather than calling Harry, she would go to his house and invite him to dinner. Arriving at Harry's front door, Ruth's knock was answered by Graham.

"Yes?" he asked, the sullen belligerence evident on his brow. "Ruth, is it?"

"Yes. Hello Graham. Is Harry in?"

He shook his head. "He's taken Scarlett to the park."

"Oh!" she remarked, surprised. "He doesn't usually walk the dog at this time of day."

Clearly surprised by her knowledge of Harry's pedestrian habits, Graham responded, "We—uh—had a row."

"Oh." Now she understood. "I thought you said that he stayed and fought now. Didn't leave."

"Yeah, he stayed. And we fought. Now he's walking the dog." A 'Dick and Jane' explanation.

"Do you know where he went?" she asked.

"Nah. Want to come in?" Graham asked.

Surprised by his congeniality, she replied, "No, but thank you for the invitation. You're father lo—"

Graham reached out and put a hand briefly on her shoulder. "Don't tell me that my father loves me. He's told me about six times." Graham ducked his head. "I know he does but he refuses to see my point of view."

She nodded. "I have that problem with him sometimes, too. I'll go now." She remembered Catherine. "How's your sister?"

Graham smiled weakly. "Fine. She's been put on bed rest. I feel sorry for Fabian. She's a bear when she has to be still."

Ruth returned his smile, wishing him and his sister well and then she set off to find the stubborn father of the stubborn son, locating him in the second park she checked.

She could see Harry across the green space, standing alone, the leash coiled in one hand and the other brushing occasionally through his hair. Scarlett was scampering off across the way.

"Hi," she greeted when she made it to his side.

Startled out of his reverie, he turned. "Hi." His voice was breathy and sad. "How's the DG?"

"Critical. He's had a massive stroke. They're not certain whether he'll recover." He nodded in response to her words. "I spoke with Graham." She left it there.

Harry sighed, long and sad. "He wants to get a flat on his own. That's great. He needs to move on with his life. But he won't let me help him. I offered to help him pay for a flat in a good neighbourhood, close by, but he wants to be independent, he says, manage on his own. The problem is that the only flats he can afford put him right back in the midst of trouble." He finished quietly. "I'm afraid for him if he goes back there." He snorted. "Who am I kidding, I'm afraid for him. Period."

Ruth was thoughtful for a moment. "Why don't you let me do a little research? Perhaps I could find a place that meets both your criteria?"

He glanced aside at her, his eyes scanning her face and body. And then he sighed sadly again. "You don't need to do that."

"Of course not, but I'd like to. It would help Graham." She paused. "And it would make you happy."

He studied her for a long time, his eyes narrowed, and then he nodded once, whistling for Scarlett and attaching her leash.

"Would you care for tea?" he asked as he turned to head home.

Her heart skipped a beat and she had to remind herself to breathe. "Yes, thank you. Actually—" She stopped to take a deep breath. "I stopped by to invite you out for dinner." She pulled her lip between her teeth, nervously awaiting his response.

"There's a place close by. We could get Indian takeaway and eat at mine." He raised his brows in question.

She smiled brightly. "That would be perfect."

He gave her a sidelong glance and then nodded once, beginning to move away. Ruth took her place beside him and they walked on in silence each involved in their own thoughts.

Ruth jerked to alertness when she felt Harry's fingers brush across the back of her hand sending fiery bolts through her heart. Looking down, she could see that every few steps, he extended his fingers minutely so that they brushed against hers. Glancing up, she saw the tiniest hint of a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth but he kept his eyes focused on the horizon.

Chewing the inside of her lip, she debated within herself. Any move now was risky. If she responded and his move was unintentional, he could accuse her of—something. If she didn't? Things would continue on as they were. Uncharacteristically, Ruth acted. On her next step, she extended her index finger, hooking it around his middle finger. She didn't breathe.

Without faltering, Harry pulled his hand slightly forward and wrapped it around hers, her fingers thrilling with the contact. She glanced up at his face but he was still looking forward. They walked hand in hand to the restaurant. Harry didn't release her hand until he moved to pay for their supper.

On the way to the house, though, he had Scarlett's leash in one hand and the food in the other until Ruth offered to walk the dog. He started to refuse, stopped and passed it over. Three steps into their journey home, he took her hand again.

Ruth excused herself to wash up as Harry laid out the plates. When she returned, Harry and Graham were waiting at the table. Both men stood as she approached.

"Your mobile rang while you were out of the room," Harry informed her. She moved over and checked the message. It was Beth letting her know that there was no news yet on the DG's condition.

"Let's eat," she suggested. "I'm ravenous."

They all sat and ate in silence for a time. Finally, Harry spoke. "Graham, Ruth thinks there might be a third option we haven't explored, one that allows you to win the argument."

Graham's face darkened and then lightened again, a grin pulling at his mouth, making him look so much like his father. "Yeh? I would enjoy winning an argument with you." He turned his attention to Ruth. "What option is that?"

Ruth suddenly felt very nervous. "Well—I—think there must be a way to find a flat that's close by but inexpensive." She began to twist her fingers around her fork, finally setting it down and beginning to rip small pieces out of her chapatti.

"We've looked," Graham replied.

"Ah, but Ruth hasn't investigated yet. If anyone can find what you're looking for, it's Ruth." Harry concluded and smiled at Ruth. She beamed in response to his compliment.

"I'll—uh—just surf a few sites after supper, shall I?" she suggested.

"It's your call, Graham," Harry said.

Graham sighed. "All right."

Supper conversation progressed to more benign topics and soon laughter floated around the table as Ruth shared her opinion of the movie she'd watched at the cinema the previous night.

After an evening in front of the laptop, they had three possibilities which Graham agreed to check out the next day. One more cup of tea and then Ruth excused herself home. Harry offered her a lift and she could see by the steel in his eyes that this was a test. In an uncharacteristic move, she accepted, even allowing him to walk her to the door.

Ruth turned back abruptly before entering the flat. "Coffee tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm." His eyes seemed fixed on her mouth.

She turned away, feeling heat rise in her face. She turned back again. "Supper as well?"

"Mmhmm." This time she just couldn't seem to look away. His eyes were dark and serious and she thought she saw a glimpse of Havensworth on his face—without the deep sorrow.

Fear took hold of her and she wanted to flee. Too much emotion. Too intense. He didn't move.

Bracing herself, she stepped toward him and then his lips were warm against hers. Her body flushed with heat and her belly tingled with desire as her heart hammered against her ribs.

"Till tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

Ruth and Harry were meeting for coffee and supper every day, even though on some days, Ruth had to return to work in the evening. Each meeting was premised and ended with a kiss and Harry seemed to take every opportunity to touch her; holding her hand, a light touch on the shoulder to get her attention, brushing a wayword strand of hair behind her ear. It was terrifying and thrilling and Ruth didn't want it to stop.

Now, Ruth sat at Harry's kitchen table, sipping her tea while he went to fetch the cake that Catherine had baked for him during her hours of "necessary tedium" while she was on bedrest but couldn't actually bring herself to stay in bed though she had agreed to take leave from work. That had been Harry's run-on explanation when he'd volunteered that he had cake for dessert. She smiled and then began to nervously twist the serviette beside her teacup.

Three days ago, Ruth had purchased two tickets to a play for Friday night with the intention of inviting Harry to accompany her. However, up to this point, fear was winning the battle over desire. Every time she tried to invite him to accompany her, her voice would freeze or her brain would go numb and she would ask about Graham's new flat.

Harry re-entered the dining room with two plates, each containing a generous portion of spice cake. He stopped short of his chair, his eyes passing between Ruth's face and the damaged serviette in her hands.

"Enough," he said, sitting heavily and setting the plates on the table between them. "Ruth, tell me right now what is going on," he demanded. "I no longer care what it is that you have to tell me but I want it out in the open, now."

She looked up into his eyes, darkened with—Anger? Concern? Passion? One could only hope.

"I—er—have—these—" her voice faltered.

"Ruth," he warned, his voice all 'Harry'.

She finished in a rush. "Two tickets to a play on Friday. Do you want to come?"

He stopped, stunned, and then laughed, a booming thunder of pleasure. She watched him, confused by his reaction.

"Here I am thinking that these days, these amazing days, were coming to an end, that you were warming up to run away from me again, and all you wanted to do was ask me on a date." He reached across the table to take her hand in his, drawing it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. "I would love to see a play with you."

"Don—don't you want to know what it's about?" she asked tentatively.

"No. It doesn't matter as long as you're with me."

Her heart felt light within her as she released the burden of moving them on to the next step of their relationship. _Yes, it really is a relationship. It beggars belief._ She beamed a smile at him.

"Now, let's try this cake that my extremely undomestic daughter has made for us."

"Yes, let's."

Friday evening finally arrived and, as Ruth completed her reports for the day, she thought of her new dress laid out on the bed at home just waiting for her to pull its burgundy velour richness over her head. The dress was unadorned but clung and flowed in all the right places. She was planning to wear her pink amethyst pendant and brooch.

She passed the last of her analyses on to Alec and then took a taxi home, not wanting to risk being late because of traffic, tonight of all nights. Showering, changing, and preparing, her nerves were dancing a zoomba until the doorbell rang—and then the salsa started.

"Ruth!" Beth called. "Your date is here." A pause. "Ruth!"

Frozen in place, she couldn't move. _This was a mistake. I can't go through with it. Why did I think I could do this? I was made to live my life alone. I_—her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door.

"Tell him—tell him I can't—I'm sick."

The door opened. "Tell me yourself," Harry said as he stepped into the room.

Suddenly able to move, she backed away. "I—uh—really—should—" Her back hit the wall of the bedroom.

Harry paced over, stopping so close that she couldn't escape. He rested his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her forehead. She ducked her head but he pressed lightly against her, kissing her temple, her cheekbone, just in front of her ear. He reached down for her hand and brought it to rest against his chest, holding it there.

"Ruth," he called to her gently. "Sweetheart." She looked up at the endearment from his lips and he leaned down and captured her mouth, kissing her deeply, tenderly, passionately until she whimpered. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his voice husky and warm.

She nodded once and then several times. "Yes. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, stepping back from her. "Don't be sorry, just come."

She nodded again and then stepped up to him, extending her arms around his neck and pulling his head down for a kiss. "I'm ready to go." That was only the second kiss she'd ever initiated with Harry. Her chest buzzed with the thrill. "You look very nice," she said, taking in his charcoal grey suit and brilliant blue shirt and tie.

"You look beautiful, Ruth," Harry observed and she blushed with pleasure, grabbing her black pashmina and then taking his hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it once.

Harry helped her into his car, holding the door for her and taking his place in the driver's seat. Pulling out into traffic, Ruth's phone sounded. She pulled it out.

"It's a red flash," she stated.

Harry sighed. "Thames House then."


	9. Chapter 9

Harry pulled to the curb around the corner from Thames House, avoiding being caught on CCTV so close to what used to be his place of employment—until a betrayer and a WMD changed the course of his life.

He turned to Ruth, sighing, "Goodnight." Leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, she turned to him, meeting his lips with her own. When she broke away, she rested her forehead against his.

"I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely.

"Just a taste of my own medicine, I guess. No wonder Jane was so cranky all the time," he replied sadly.

"I don't think she had any reason to be cranky, Harry. You're quite—" she paused and he watched her expectantly. She ducked her head, blushing. "Lovely."

"Lovely!" he replied indignantly.

She chuckled at his response. "Difficult, stubborn, opinionated—"

He held up a hand. "I get the idea," he stated ironically.

She smiled. "But very very lovely."

He shook his head in feigned disgust, replying dubiously, "Hmmm." He kissed her hand. "You'd better go, sweetheart."

She smiled at him. "Yes." An idea struck. "Come with me."

Harry's eyes widened. "I can't, Ruth."

"No, I mean, come in the back way and wait for me to find out what this is all about. If it's just a drill or something then maybe we could make it by the intermission." She watched him hopefully.

"The back way?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, puhlease. I know there's a back way that you've used on various occasions over the years to avoid Richard Dolby, Juliet Shaw, et cetera."

"You want me to sneak into Thames House and wait in a stairwell while you work?" he asked incredulously.

"If you want." She began to fear that she had crossed a relationship line somewhere, gotten carried away with her desire to be with him. "Of course, you may not want—could go to the play alone—not worth it—" She faltered.

"You're worth it. I'll come. I'll leave my mobile in the car so I can't be traced."

She kissed him quickly on the cheek and exited the vehicle, moving in the front door of Thames House and upstairs to the Grid, welcomed by Alec.

"Ruth, I'm glad you're here."

"What's up?" she asked.

"Bomb. You look lovely by the way."

"Thank you. What bomb?"

"Waterloo Bridge. They managed to blow up a few cars and undermine one of the supports."

"Is this the real thing, Alec?"

"It's the real deal. Sorry to interrupt your evening."

"I wasn't—" He shone her a skeptical look and she stopped. "Okay. I'll be right back."

"Right back?" She nodded at his words and walked away. "Fine. Meeting room in ten." She heard him say, nodding again as she walked toward the ladies' toilets before circling back and down and into the stairwell to find Harry waiting patiently.

He pulled her close and she hugged him tightly, informing him, "It's the real thing."

"You going to tell me?" he asked.

"I—I can't." He nodded at her words, stiffening in her arms and pulling away. "A bomb on Waterloo Bridge," she informed him.

He looked—humbled, whispering, "Thank you."

She reached to his tie as she spoke, fiddling with it, straightening it, pulling it out of his jacket and then tucking it back in and straightening it again. "You should probably go home. Or to the play. I don't know when we'll be finished."

He watched her carefully, finally taking her hands and holding them against his chest. "What would you like me to do?"

"I—uh—you—I don't know what to say," she responded feebly.

"If you had the right to ask me to do anything, what would you ask me to do?" Harry inquired, his voice serious.

"Kiss me," she replied and he did, smiling against her lips. She whispered into his tie, "Stay for a little while until I know what's to come?"

He smiled. "Can you bring me a bottle of water?"

"Yes. If I'm not back in half an hour, go home. I'll call you when I can. I—uh—Goodnight." He kissed her once more and she departed.

Ruth found the others in the meeting room sharing the information they'd collected.

"Ruth, finally," Beth greeted her.

"What do we know?" Ruth asked.

For the next thirty minutes, they shared the intelligence gathered so far which amounted to the bomb's location, the casualties and the distribution of the CCTV cameras, the footage of which was currently being analyzed by Tariq. And then the call came in.

"This is a communiqué from the new Shining Dawn. Code name 'Centaur'. You have ignored the people's cry for justice long enough. The bill before parliament on immigration will be torn up and the Minister for Immigration will resign. We will detonate one bomb every twelve hours until our demands are met."

"Shining Dawn," Dmitri asked. "What is that?" Beth shook her head.

Alec looked thoughtful as Ruth responded. "They are—well, they were a terrorist organization led by one Michael Monroe whose platform detailed the need to cull the population of the world."

Alec posed a question to Ruth. "You were involved in the last attack by these people?" She nodded and he continued. "Who else?"

"Harry Pearce, Juliet Shaw, Adam Carter, the cousins—"

Alec held up a hand to stop her. "Ruth, could I see you outside for a moment, please?"

"Sure," she responded, following him out of the meeting room.

"Wait here," he instructed and then moved off to find Tariq, returning in a few minutes without him. He leaned his head down and spoke very quietly. "Harry is here, isn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean," Ruth responded, feeling the flush of panic rise within her.

Alec gave her a skeptical look. "Ruth. You're here looking beautiful and Harry's mobile is two hundred metres away. He's in the building, isn't he?"

"Alec, please. If he's caught here," she let it rest at that.

"Take me to him," Alec demanded.

She shook her head. "Call his house. Maybe he's at home."

Alec grabbed her arm. "There's no time to fanny about, Ruth!" he whispered tersely. "Harry caught these people last time and he can catch them this time. I need his help or people will die."

Every reason why this was a good idea ran through her mind in a sequence followed by, 'what will Harry think of this?' She finally nodded, suddenly very nervous, and led Alec to the stairwell, planning to walk in first to warn Harry but Alec pushed past her.

"Harry, I know you're here. I need your help," Alec stated assertively.

Harry moved out of the shadows under the stairs. "How did you know I was here?" he asked, as though fearing the answer.

"Ruth told me," Alec responded as Ruth moved into the space behind him watching as Harry's gaze tightened. "It's Shining Dawn, Harry. You nabbed them last time and I want your help this time. If I can get you to an interrogation room without being seen, could you go through some photos and details we've collected?"

Harry paused a long time, studying Alec and then his own hands, never sparing a glance for Ruth. "Fine. But I can't be seen to be here."

"Of course," Alec agreed. Turning to Ruth, Alec instructed her to return to the meeting room to go over the specifics of the bomb again with Dmitri.

She wanted desperately to talk to Harry, to explain, but she didn't know how. She only knew that he refused to meet her eyes.

Twenty minutes later, Alec returned with a look of fierce intensity on his face, bending down to speak into Ruth's ear. "He's done it. I've sent him home."

They had eleven more hours to find the next bomb or to find the members of Shining Dawn, three of whom Harry had identified from CCTV images.

The next bomb was defused but the third was detonated on schedule. However, due to the intelligence Harry had provided, the team was able to prevent all casualties and now they were close; it was only a matter of time until they located the terrorists.

Ruth was given six hours to sleep but she wanted so badly to see Harry that she took a taxi to his door, knocking, not even registering the time of day. Harry opened the door and drew her inside.

"You look exhausted," he observed and she leaned against him.

"I wanted to see you," she said and his gaze softened. He led her to the couch where she curled up against him beneath the protection of his arm. He asked if she wanted tea but she shook her head, gradually slipping down into sleep until she was lying with her head resting on his leg, his fingers running through her hair.

She woke several hours later, alone on the couch covered by a fleece blanket, a pillow beneath her head. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she went in search of Harry, finding him leaning against the door frame watching Scarlett scamper about in the back garden. Something about his stance warned her that all was not well and she began to feel afraid. _Is he angry with me for taking Alec to him? Should I have gone home instead of coming here and falling asleep against him?_

She reached out tentatively, just brushing his arm. "Hi," she greeted, her voice strained by her anxiety.

He didn't react to her presence, speaking instead to the back door. "You leave, interrupting all the fun times, returning, telling them that the sacrifice they've made is necessary but refusing to tell them why, and then, when you're home, all you want is comfort and sleep. All they want is a piece of you but you don't have any pieces left to give them. I hate it."

Ruth gasped. _He hates me._ She fled, hearing Harry finally turn and call after her. Slipping into her shoes, she saw him rush into the foyer, demanding, "Ruth, don't you dare walk out that door!" She shook her head and raced out, shutting the door behind her. "Ruth!" She heard him smack his hand against the door but he didn't open it to come after her.

Racing down the steps, the path and the block, she halted at the bus stop. Her mobile beeped and, thinking it might be the Grid, she checked. There was one word from Harry, THINK. _Think. What does that mean? Think. _Her phone beeped again. It was Harry again. DO YOU WANT THIS TO BE THE END? _Do I? After all I went through to build the bridge back to his heart, am I ready to end it now? What exactly did he say? "I hate it." Hate what? Me? Maybe not me._ I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO, she replied and then waited. The bus roared up to the stop and she wavered between escape and hope, deciding at the last minute to choose hope, terrifying hope. Message Received, STOP RUNNING AWAY.

Ruth made her way back to Harry's, knocking once on the door. He opened it but didn't move back to let her in. "You cannot run away every time we have a problem." His voice was firm, a little angry. She nodded, her eyes still on his shoes. "Ruth," he warned. She glanced up expecting to see his anger on display but he looked sad. "I can't do this, Ruth, the seesawing back and forth, apprehensive that anything I say might send you into retreat. You came after me, if you'll recall. I was prepared to let things rest between us." He reached out to cup her chin and raise her eyes to his face and hold them there. "I need to know that I can trust you to stay, to stand and fight for our life together."

Unshed tears filmed her eyes. "You want to be together?" she asked meekly.

He growled, releasing her chin. "What do you think this has all been about?"

"I don't know. One last chance at companionship? Escape from loneliness? I don't know."

"Ruth, loneliness is much easier than you!" he stated emphatically.

And it just struck her as funny. She had opted on George in Cypress to escape loneliness, to give her the impression of a family. She had refused Harry's proposal because she felt she deserved to suffer the pain of loneliness when so many of her friends and colleagues had suffered, when her escape from loneliness had led to George's death. She had never considered that her tendency to escape from intimacy—from love—was causing Harry so much more pain than being alone.

She was no longer the flighty, loyal Ruth of many years ago, the one with a crush on her domineering boss. She was the new Ruth, independent and capable. She didn't need a man to be whole but she wanted this one. She wanted to stay and fight.

Resolute, she responded, "How dare you say you hate me, then!"

He recoiled at her words. "Hate you? I never said that I hate you. I don't hate you, Ruth. I—"

"I what?" she demanded to know.

"I can't say it if you're just going to run off again. It's not fair." His eyes fell and he leaned heavily on the doorframe.

She conceded, "You're right. I've not been fair to you. I'm sorry. I give you my word that I won't run off again. I will stay and fight—for us." Her voice was calm, firm, resolved and he looked up to meet her gaze, a new emotion behind his eyes.

"Is there going to be an 'us'?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, for my part. I'm sorry for the many ways I've hurt you and I'm sorry that Alec didn't let me explain in the stairwell. He realized that you were in the building. I guess he had Tariq trace your phone and decided that if you were nearby and I was at Thames House then we were probably together. I wanted to come to you and ask for your help but Alec forced his way into the situation before I could and then I didn't have a chance to explain. I'm sorry for that, too," she concluded.

Ruth could see pride and respect shining from Harry's eyes. "It's all right. I was happy to help. Come in, sweetheart."

Her breath caught at his words and she inhaled deeply, her tight chest loosening as she felt his forgiveness float across the space to sit on her heart. She stepped through the door of his house and into his arms, holding him tightly and brushing her face against his shirt, nuzzling his chest. Her muffled voice escaped, "What did you mean when you said, 'I hate it'?"

He sighed heavily. "I've been forced to experience what I did to Catherine and Graham, to Jane for all those years, being forced to sacrifice happiness not knowing the reason. I, at least, know the reason because you shared it with me. I was able to help in a small way. But I finally understand why they were so hurt by my abandonment and I'm grateful to finally understand. Ruth, whatever happens between us, I have learned a valuable lesson today."

She kissed his chest at the open V of his shirt. "As have I. Love can't survive a constant retreat."

"Is it love, Ruth?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "Oh yes. I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, Ruth. I have loved you for a long time."

He bent to capture her lips but she offered them up freely to him.

By: Author, D C Shaftoe


	10. Chapter 10

CRISIS AVERTED. TAKE 24.

"It looks like I've a day off," Ruth informed Harry after receiving the text. His outlook fell. "What?" Ruth asked, resting her hand on his forearm.

He smiled weakly. "I was planning to visit Catherine today. I don't really want to start letting my children down again. I would gladly stay if it were anyone—"

"Harry, stop. You should go, of course you should go." She rested her hand gently on his arm. "This is the new and improved Harry Pearce, isn't it?"

His gaze dropped. "I'd like it to—for Graham and Catherine, and the baby—" He looked up. "And for you." He stroked his hand up her arm and rested it lightly on her shoulder. She stepped into him, hugging him tightly. He spoke into her hair. "Would you like to come with?"

She paused for a moment, considering the implications of what he was asking. _Well, I've already met Graham. If Harry and I are to be together, then we need to share our lives with one another. Added to that, is the fact that I'd be spending the day with him. _"Yes. Yes, I'd like that. Would Catherine mind?"

"Well, actually," he began, seeming a little embarrassed. "She's been hounding me to bring the 'coffee lady' along."

Ruth chuckled happily and then she surveyed her body. "I really should clean up first."

"We can drop by yours for a shower and change before we leave, if you like," he suggested.

"We?" she asked mischievously and watched, amazed, as a slow blush crept up his cheeks. _For a man who can be such a flirt, he really is sweet._

"You. Of course, you," he mumbled.

She laughed outright, leaning in to kiss him. "Breakfast?" she inquired.

He nodded and moved away to the kitchen. Ruth made the coffee as Harry made the scrambled eggs and toast and then they sat at the table eating as they happily discussed the mundane and then turned to the more serious, Graham's upcoming job interview and Harry's plans for tomorrow and the day after and the years after that.

"What will you do with the rest of your retirement?" Ruth asked, swirling the last of her tea around the cup. "Graham is getting settled. Catherine and the baby are out of danger."

"I'm not certain. I want to be close by for the kids, and the little one coming, but I don't think I can build models for the next twenty years." He paused. "You know, the first few weeks after my resignation were horrific as I tried to readjust to the confusing lack of stress. These past few weeks, though, have been lovely." He reached over to take her hand, lifting it to his lips. "But I'm not certain that 'grandfather' and 'boyfriend' will be enough fill all my days. I'm not actually as old as I sometimes feel."

"Old," she repeated absently. Ruth felt panic rise within her at the term 'boyfriend' paired with thoughts of a future with Harry but she mastered it and forced it down. "The future scares me," she admitted.

"I know," he replied softly and she nodded. _He understands._

They spent a lovely day with Catherine, chatting, playing cards and going for several short walks. Catherine welcomed Ruth easily, telling her father that she'd not often seen him this happy. Ruth remembered Harry's response.

"You have always made me happy, Catherine, even during the difficult days, I wouldn't have wanted a different daughter. I'm very proud of you."

Catherine's eyes had filled with tears and she'd hugged her father, complaining about 'baby hormones' making her emotional.

Ruth and Harry had stopped for supper after the visit and then Harry had driven Ruth home. Now she lay here in her bed hugging her arms across her chest, warmed with the memories of love. As she drifted off to sleep, she held her fingers lightly to her lips, feeling still the kiss he'd bade goodnight with before he'd returned home.

Ruth rose for work the next day beaming a happy smile at anyone who came within range. The day progressed well from coffee with Harry to lunch with Harry to a proposed supper with Harry—and, of course, the analysis of intelligence in the middle. Finally the day was done and, as Ruth hurriedly shut down her computer, eager to make her way to Harry's side, she kicked over her bag, spilling the contents. Beth helped her gather her things and then Ruth heard—

"A thousand reasons to say—" Ruth snatched the paper from Beth and shoved it into her bag, racing out the pods and to the bus stop. Once settled on the bus, she pulled out the paper once again preparing to tear it into pieces, stopping as she saw red pen across the page. Someone had marked the items, crossing some out, circling others and writing comments beside them such as _Fair point; untrue; perhaps; needs qualifying._ Slowly she turned the page over to read, "One reason to say yes to Harry"—_Because he loves you with all his heart._

She carefully refolded the note and placed it back into her bag, smiling fondly.

Harry and Ruth spent a lovely evening together until Harry finally demanded to know why she kept grinning at him.

Pulling the page out of her bag, she asked, "When did you do that?"

He took it from her, spreading it flat on the coffee table. "The night you had supper with Graham and I. When your mobile rang, I checked it without really thinking about what I was doing, and I found the note. It just seemed—something I should have a say in." She could tell that he was watching her reaction carefully.

"Why did you say that 'pompous' was only a 'perhaps'?" she asked, teasing him.

He didn't smile and she thought she saw a flash of hurt pass across his eyes. "I'm not certain that being confident in one's skills qualifies as being pompous," he replied.

_He's taking this very seriously._ She stood up from the table and walked over to his chair, placing her arm across his shoulders and leaning down to kiss his temple. "I don't think you're pompous. A little conceited perhaps—"

"It means the same thing," he muttered and then he finally looked up to meet her gaze. She shone him a mischievous grin and waited for him to notice, watching as his face gradually relaxed. "Vixen."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she indignantly demanded to know. He grabbed her abruptly, pulling her onto his lap and nibbling her neck, tickling her. She squirmed and giggled and finally escaped but he chased her out into the lounge where she assaulted him with couch cushions until they both collapsed onto the couch exhausted by laughter and horseplay.

"You okay?" he asked as his breathing began to settle.

"I haven't had that much fun in a very long time," she responded, still smiling broadly. "I'll have to call you pompous more often."

He moved swiftly and she found herself beneath him on the couch. "Pompous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, still grinning up at him. His smile began to resolve into a look of desire and he leaned down slowly to kiss her, sweeping his lips along her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes and then back to her mouth, lingering in gentle kisses until she tightened her arms, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. When she released his mouth in order to breathe, he moved his mouth to her chin, down her throat and along her right collar bone, kissing her slowly, her breath catching with the intensity of desire.

"I love you," he murmured against her.

"I love you, too," she assured him.

He slipped behind her on the couch, curling to spoon around her, his arm across her waist, holding her to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, so grateful that he was not intent on pushing their relationship too fast.

"Pleasure."

They watched the news cuddled on the couch until Ruth began to yawn so loudly that Harry chuckled and offered to take her home. At the door to her flat, she turned to him.

"Harry, do you—" She rushed on. "I mean I'm not a novice. Nor am I a hussy. I don't—"

Harry brought his hand to rest against her cheek, stilling her words with his thumb. "All in good time. There's no hurry."

She turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, a tender gesture. "Good night."

"See you tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow."


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, very early, Ruth was awakened by a red flash. She showered, dressed and grabbed a croissant, all as she moved toward the door to meet—Harry? Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, showered and shaved and ready for—what?

"Harry?"

"I'll explain on the way." He took her hand and led her to the car.

"Thames House?" she directed him, completely confused by this situation.

"Of course," he replied, a small grin playing along the corner of his mouth.

Suspicious of his affect, she warned, eyes narrowed, "Harry." _What is going on?_ "Have you had an update on the DG?"

"As I understand it, his family will just be grateful to take him home. The prognosis is quite bleak."

"So they're not expecting him to return."

"No," he replied, the grin gone from his face.

"Will the service look after him, Harry?"

"Of course." They drove in silence for a few minutes, contemplating the frailty of life.

Ruth turned to him. "And you?"

"Well, it seems that our lord and master, the Chairman of the JIC, has determined that MI-5 can no longer function without a Director-General."

"Harry! They offered it to you?"

"Well, first they asked me to come in temporarily to help with the current crisis. I, however, made it quite clear that I was enjoying my retirement and had no desire to put myself in their hands, particularly after the way they treated me, unless the change was permanent, barring, of course, the return of the DG."

"But how—Albany—the enquiry?" she stumbled across her words.

"I've never actually been charged with anything, nor was I fired. And, because of the planned enquiry, I've never been debriefed about Albany, so nothing is on record."

"So by resigning, you actually saved your career?"

"It would seem so."

Ruth reached over and squeezed his thigh. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

"Now, none of that, Miss Evershed. I seem to be your boss again."

She slapped his leg, enough to make her point but not hard enough to hurt. "Don't you dare!"

But suddenly she realized that this could change everything and her heart clenched at the thought. _Change. What does this mean? Colleagues? Stress? Walls and consequences. Can I go back to him as the man who sends the young to their death? _Her fear must have shown plainly on her face because Harry pulled the car to the curb and turned to her.

He brushed his fingers along her cheek, rounding her jaw and lifting her chin. "It was a poor joke, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Leaning in, he kissed her tenderly. "Tell me what you fear."

"Change," she gasped. "The future. The past. No, what I fear the most is emotion. Pain. Grief. Despair." She could feel her heart going cold as memories assaulted her. _Change. Grief. We couldn't make it work when we worked together. Harry was right all along—_

"Ruth. Ruth! You're running away again. Worse, you're erecting your walls. Do you love me?" He took her face in both his hands, cupping her cheeks, forcing her to attend to him. "Do you love me?" He insisted on knowing.

The crystalline hardening of her heart began to halt and reverse, from 8 to back toward 5 on the Mohs Scale. "Yes," she responded harshly.

He sighed in relief. "Good. Because I love you, too. Things will change—life is full of change—but how I feel about you, what I want for us, for now and for the future, will not change."

She processed what he was saying. "You're the new DG?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think you'll be very good at the job." She smiled tentatively.

He returned her smile. "Thank you. Are we okay?"

"Yes." She had one question she needed to ask. "Why do you bother?"

In a very 'Harry' way, he understood her meaning. "There's a Ruth that exists behind the formerly vivacious and flighty, currently hardened and efficient, always utterly brilliant woman. That is the woman I love. The rest is just decoration. I love the woman beneath."

Her eyes filled with emotion. "That was the sweetest, most wonderful thing that anyone has ever said to me. Why would I ever walk away from you? Why would I ever let you walk away from me?"

"I do not know," he emphasized each word. "But we need to get to work and save the world."

"Of course."

It was three days before they set eyes on each other again. Section D were dismissed once their reports were completed, but the Lord High Executioner, Sir Harry Pearce, was expected to stay and review each and every word. As a result, Ruth found him on her doorstep at midnight, clad in his navy blue suit, looking exhausted and utterly handsome.

She flew into his arms and he held her tightly against him as she pulled him through the door and into the flat. "I missed you!" she exclaimed.

"Mmmm. I like the sound of that." Harry drew her close, resting his hands on her hips as he lowered his mouth to capture hers. Shifting his mouth slightly he ran his tongue along her lips and she moaned into his mouth, encouraging him to continue but he broke off, kissing along her cheek and down the side of her neck, his hand brushing up her side and coming to rest, gently cupping her breast. She startled and he chuckled sweetly against her skin.

"You okay?" he murmured against her neck.

"Ye yes. Just surprised me," she responded, breathing heavily at the sensations coursing through her body and mind.

He sighed happily, his breath ruffling her hair. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time."

She jerked her head up. "Truly?"

"Hmmm." He pulled back, removing his hand and using it to tip her chin to meet his gaze. "You are beautiful. To be allowed the privilege of touching that beauty is simply wonderful."

"Beautiful? You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice subdued in wonder.

"Hmmm. Yes. Beautiful." He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, dropping his hand back to her waist and drawing her against him again.

She smiled brightly. _Beautiful._ "Are there any other secret desires I should know about."

His lips were against her neck again, now on the other side and working their way up to her cheek. "Oh yes. Several. But some will have to wait."

"What do you mean?"

He pulled back to meet her gaze. "Ruth, I've done divorce. I've done affair and brief encounter. They are all crap. If my life has taught me nothing else, it's taught me that the union of a man and a woman isn't just about pleasure. It's about trust and sacrifice—and pleasing each other. It should be protected." He stopped to kiss her brow, perhaps trying to erase the confused furrows there. "When I take you to my bed, I want it to be as my wife. I don't want half a relationship with you, sweetheart. I want it all and I vow to you now that, for me, it will be forever."

"Forever," she repeated longingly. "Is that still done?"

"I've heard rumours to that effect," he replied, smiling lightly.

"Forever. I like the sound of that."

"How about marriage?" he asked, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

"Not yet," she replied but added, "Soon, though. Soon."


	12. Chapter 12

Ruth and Harry still managed to maintain their coffee breaks, skillfully arranging their schedules so that they saw each other every day. They were each learning to draw boundaries between life and work.

The days filled with paperwork and the mundane led to evenings together. The days filled with crises and violence led to loneliness and reunion and often to an afternoon off together visiting Harry's children.

Ruth smiled happily from behind her computer monitor, remembering the bouquet of flowers that he had given her the previous day, "Just because you're beautiful," he'd said. She scanned the Grid ensuring that her secret musings had not been spotted.

The team was at full complement again. Tobias Greene was the Section Head, Alec White the Section Chief. Beth and Dmitri remained along with Ruth and Tariq, joined by Louis Toews a young officer seconded from MI-6 and Sharon Bramwell, an experienced agent transferred from Section C, the Irish Section.

Ruth's heart still lurched sometimes when she saw someone else working at Jo's desk but after Ruth had spent one coffee break crying in Harry's arms, Alec had mysteriously decided to rearrange the Grid.

The emotions that accompanied a relationship with Harry were often still confusing and they'd had a few choice rows but she was determined to keep her word to stay and fight for their love, for their future together. Harry demanded that they discuss every issue as it became apparent, leaving nothing to fester beneath the surface. She found that she loved him more each day and each day found his love easier and easier to accept.

"Briefing!" Alec called. "Ruth, I need the report on the threat ratings."

"I've got it here," she responded. Called back to the world of work, she followed her colleagues into the meeting room.

Tobias opened the meeting, "The MI-6 station in Bangkok has picked up a warning that the Chinese are determined to assert more power and influence in Myanmar. The PM is concerned that this may interfere with natural gas negotiations in the future and could, potentially, spill over into action here. Ruth, you have an asset at the Chinese Embassy?"

"Yes, one of Malcolm Winn-Jones'."

"I want you to arrange a meet to see if the rumours are true, specifically, do we need to increase surveillance on our MSS friends."

"MSS?" Tairq inquired.

"Ministry for State Security. The People's Republic of China's Intelligence Service," Alec informed him. Alec could be gruff in many ways but he always seemed to have a patience for the young computer whiz.

The meeting concluded and Ruth sent her coded message, receiving an almost immediate reply.

She made her way to Alec's work station. She had developed a reluctance to enter Harry's office to find someone, anyone else, sitting behind it and so she had grown accustomed to relaying all information through the Section Chief.

"Alec, I've made contact as ordered. I'll be back shortly," she informed him.

"Wear a mic and make sure Tariq is monitoring you," he replied. She nodded and made her way to the meet.

It was pleasant to be away from the Grid. The wind was cool on her face as it gently ruffled her scarf, and the seldom-seen sun was brightly shining between the cumulus clouds. Making her way along the Thames, she found the bench where her contact had agreed to meet. This was the first time that she had contacted this particular asset but she was confident in his reliability because Malcolm had been confident in him.

Within five minutes, Ruth was joined by an elderly Chinese gentleman, wiry and hard. "What do you have for me, Hsin?"

His eyes narrowed at her question and she realized that she had blundered by using his first name on their initial meeting. His voice was terse as he replied to her question, "The new agenda of the MSS is industrial espionage. They no longer care for military secrets. If there is a role for China in Myanmar, the MSS will do what is necessary to consolidate its position in advance of others."

"Thank you," Ruth responded, standing and offering a packet of money, the agreed upon price for information.

He reached beyond the packet, taking her elbow firmly in his hand, jerking her closer. "You have much to learn," he replied, his voice hard, his accent slipping. As his head moved menacingly closer, she reflexively slapped his face and pulled away. Before she could react further, he slapped her hard in return. "I would advise you to learn your place before you return to me," he warned, turning abruptly and walking away.

She rubbed her sore cheek and made her way to the street, taking a taxi back to the Grid, her hands shaking throughout the journey, her voice automatically responding with reassurance to Tariq's repeated questions of whether she was "all right".

Alec and Louis greeted her as she returned. "Are you all right?" Alec's voice was deeply concerned, obviously having heard the audio from her meet.

"Yes, I'm annoyed, but fine," Ruth replied.

"I want you to brief Louis on this fellow. It's obviously not expedient to have a woman continue to meet with this particular asset."

"The first three letters being the descriptor," Ruth mumbled. "I can handle it, Alec. There's no need—"

"Tobias' orders," Alec said, brooking no argument.

"Not from higher up?" Ruth asked suspiciously.

"Nope. You know it's an operational decision." Alec's gaze made it clear that this decision was prudent and not to be disputed.

"Fine. Come on, Louis, I'll fill you in."

The day continued and Ruth completed her report on the Chinese-Burmese situation concerning the natural gas resources in Myanmar, formerly called Burma by the world and still called Burma by those who refused to recognize the right to rule of the military junta in power there.

HOME SOON? She received Harry's text at six o'clock just as she was about to start on a new report. Snapping the file folder shut, she turned off her computer and replied, NOW IN FACT. A smiley emoticon was his response. Since she'd taught him to use those, they kept appearing in his messages.

"You off, Ruth?" Louis asked, shining a friendly smile.

"Yes. Time to go," she replied. She pulled her coat on and wrapped her scarf around her neck.

"Well, your fellow is very lucky," he asserted.

"Yes, he is," she stated and departed through the pods, making her way to the DG's office, checking in with his personal assistant, Eugenia Pryce, before entering his domain. She was the only person aside from the indomitable Eugenia who was allowed free access to the inner sanctum.

Harry was on the phone as she entered and he held up a finger to let her know that he would soon be finished.

"Yes, of course, Foreign Secretary. With haste. Good day to you, too, sir," Harry replied, ringing off. He sighed happily. "Hello sweetheart. You are a sight for sore eyes. Ready to go?"

"Indeed."

Harry grabbed his coat and gloves and accompanied Ruth to the parking garage, settling into his car in the dimly lit space, inquiring, "Your place or mine?"

"Do you have food?" she asked. He nodded. "Then definitely yours." He smiled in response and they chatted about the music on the radio as they drove across London.

Once through the door of Harry's house, Ruth removed her coat and scarf, stepping over to Harry and slipping his coat and suit jacket down his arms and pulling him toward her by his blue silk tie.

"My jacket's going to wrinkle if you treat it like that," he quipped.

Ignoring his words, she buried the fingers of her free hand in his soft curly hair, moving his mouth where she wanted it to be and partaking there, searching all the hidden places. He parted his lips to welcome her investigation, clearly enjoying the sensations as he clutched her closer, groaning when she moved away.

"More," he murmured and she smiled, undoing his tie and releasing his top three buttons, tickling her fingers across his newly exposed skin and leaning forward to kiss the notch of his throat. Harry slid his fingers into her hair, stroking his thumbs along her cheeks, pulling back in surprise when she flinched.

Cupping her jaw, he turned her head and viewed the red welts on her face. "What's this?" He moved her into the brighter light of the foyer where he traced the outline of three fingers gently with his fingertip. "Someone slapped you?" He dropped his hands to his side, clenching his fists and stepping back as though to protect her from his rising anger. "Tell me what happened."

She studied him carefully, feeling a warm glow at his protectiveness but not entirely certain where his anger would take this discussion. "I went out to meet an asset who thought maybe he'd try something. He didn't accept my slap very well."

"Off the Grid? Again? Every time you leave the Grid you get hurt!" he exclaimed.

"Not every time," she disputed.

Harry began to tick off the incidents on his fingers: Deery, The British Way, Nightingale...

"Wait. That time I wasn't hurt. The asset was shot. I was fine."

"Very funny. Why don't you pass Malcolm's assets over to Louis or Sharon?"

Ruth could feel her face flushing but not with passion. "Why don't you just ask me to leave '5' and become a secretary somewhere? Then I'd be nice and safe. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" she insisted, storming away into the dining room.

"Well, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe," he replied indignantly, following her and flopping angrily into a chair.

"They're not Malcolm's assets anymore, anyway. They're mine! I am perfectly capable of doing my job." She had begun wagging her finger at him and she wasn't certain if it was funny or ironic.

"I've never implied anything else. However, I—"

"What?" she demanded to know, her voice heated with anger and disgust.

He paused and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "I love you."

His words extinguished her anger but did not alter her point of view. "Saying that doesn't win you the argument, you know," she informed him gently. He reached out for her and she moved closer to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap, leaning to rest her head against his shoulder.

He held her tightly. "I don't like it that you were hurt."

"Tobias passed the asset on to Louis," Ruth admitted.

Harry released a sigh. "Good man, Greene, I've always liked him."

She snorted. "You said he was a—"

"Changed my mind," he replied, chuckling. "Will you consider—"

Ruth pushed off his chest, coming to her feet and stepping away across the room to lean against the counter. "If you continue that sentence, Harry, we are going to have a rip-roaring argument," she warned, huffing at him as she crossed her arms angrily.

He sighed, walking over to stand before her, holding up his hands in surrender when she tensed at his approach. "I don't want you to become a secretary somewhere. I want you to continue doing your job as long as you wish to. You are brilliant at it." He looked up tentatively. "I apologize for implying that you should ever quit your job because of a bad day. Accepted?" he asked beseechingly. She nodded once and allowed him to step closer, slipping his arms around her waist, nuzzling against her neck and sighing. "I—I don't know how to explain what I feel."

"Do your best," she suggested, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

She could sense him struggling against her, finally speaking softly against her skin. "I don't want to lose you before you're even mine."

She pulled back in astonishment. "So it'll be okay once we're married?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I want a lifetime with you, Ruth. I love you."

"I love you, too." She pulled him close, guiding his head back to her shoulder and holding him for a long time before saying, "Actually, I'm surprise you haven't proposed again."

He slumped against her. "I—I've tried but the words get stuck in my throat and my chest clenches and I can't."

She moved to pull back but he clutched her to him. "What do you fear?" she asked, using his own question.

"I can't go through that again. I'd never be able to bear it," he whispered.

Ruth understood. "Rejection." He nodded at her words. "I want to marry you, sweetheart," she confirmed and he straightened to meet her gaze. "I'm not going to run away even if you try to force me to quit and become a secretary. I won't quit but I won't run away either." She quirked an ironic grin and he chuckled at her words. "I know that you're only concerned about my safety and I also know that I no longer have a death wish. I want to survive to be with you." She moved in close against his front, lightly tracing her fingertips along the curve of his ear, leaning to the side and blowing gently across his cheek, causing him to shudder lightly at the sensation. "At least until we've made love anyway."

He chuckled and pulled back to look her in the eyes. "So if it's good enough, you'll quit?"

She laughed. "Not a chance. Harry, let me worry about the proposal."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Have you bought me a ring?"

He hesitated before answering. "Yes." He blushed and she thought he looked adorable.

"Could I have it? Just for a few days?" she asked, encouraging him with her smile.

"Why?"

"Will you trust me? I know I haven't been trustworthy with your heart in the past but will you trust me now?"

He nodded slowly moving out of the kitchen, up the stairs and back again, tentatively handing her an indigo velvet box.

Humbled by his faith in her she accepted it, moving to slip it into her bag and then returning to him. "Thank you for trusting me."

He nodded slowly. "I don't understand."

"You will soon, I give you my word. Supper?"

He studied her again for a time and then seemed to put his concerns aside. "All right. I think there's chicken, and I have rice and broccoli."

His gaze was thoughtful all evening but she tried to reassure him with her smile, her touch and her kiss. After walking Scarlett to and from the park, they settled on the couch to watch television. Ruth leaned against Harry's chest, tracing her fingertips between the buttons on his shirt, smiling secretly as his breathing grew gradually heavier when she slipped the buttons from their holes and spread her caresses across his chest. When she sat up straighter in order to better kiss his collarbone, he tipped her chin with his fingertips and began to kiss her, gently nipping the corners of her mouth with his lips before moving to the centre, kissing her in soft butterfly kisses planted across her parted lips. She spread her fingers into his hair, pulling his head nearer and tasting his mouth, teasing him with her tongue and lips until he growled lightly, possessing her mouth and then leaning back to give up possession to her.

When she found herself nestled between his trousered legs, her head resting against his bare chest, she sighed in contentment, planting a big kiss on his sternum. "You make me very happy, Harry. I've never felt like this before." She looked up as she felt him kiss the top of her head. "Are you happy?"

"Yes. Very happy," he replied, sighing contentedly. "But I had better drive you home before I decide to change my mind about taking you upstairs."

She smiled gently. "I like the idea of doing this the traditional way."

"So do I," he confirmed, buttoning his shirt and gathering her things to drive her home. A good night kiss led to a few more until she finally planted her hand on his chest, gently but firmly pushing him toward the door.

"Tomorrow."


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday afternoon found Ruth and Harry in the park. They had spent the morning at the shops and then shared a picnic on the grass, finding the perfect private spot surrounded by bushes and a big rock. The blanket spread beneath them, Harry lay on his back with his knees up and one arm tucked behind his head. Ruth was reading _Forged in the Jungles of Burma_, her head pillowed on his chest, enjoying the feel of his fingertips lightly tracing patterns on her belly, noting that the wayward digits had found their way beneath the hem of her blouse, his index finger now tracing the perimeter of her bellybutton.

Now that Ruth's mind had settled on the concept of marriage, she realized that confessing their love and commitment were only the first step. There were many other issues which required consideration—analysis.

Clearing her throat, she began the discussion. "Harry."

"Hmmm."

"Do you want to have children together?" she asked. His fingers halted and she clasped his wrist as he began to remove it from her, pulling it back and entwining their fingers across her torso. "Harry?"

"I was a bad father, Ruth."

"Didn't you tell me that you'd learned a valuable lesson about your family?"

He sighed heavily. "Yes, but what if I ruin things again?"

"Are you the same man you were when you married Jane? If you could go back, would you do anything differently?"

"I would do everything differently. I realize now that there were many decisions I made for my career rather than my job." He gently disentangled their fingers and propped himself on his elbows, encouraging her to turn and face him. "I understand now that, even though as Head of Section D I saved thousands of lives, my first responsibility was to three lives and I failed them. When Lucas took you, Ruth, it suddenly became clear to me that my career was a sham; that nothing mattered but the people I love. Did you know that I called Catherine on the way to meet with Lucas? I wanted one last opportunity to tell her and Graham that I loved them." He paused, looking down between them, studying his fingers pulling at the blades of grass. "The day after I resigned, I went to visit Graham in Rehab. The moment I saw his head bowed over a model of a Lotus Esprit and realized that it was a gift I had bought for him when he was a boy and had promised to build with him—in that moment I understood my failure: I had sacrificed my family on the altar of duty and career. I will never do that again."

Ruth leaned over and kissed him once. "Would you have children with me?"

He smiled sadly. "Yes. And if it becomes necessary for one of us to leave work to care for the child," He looked up at her. "Our child, I will retire and stay home."

Astonishment jolted her. "You would retire? Now that you have what you wanted? You're the DG!"

He chuckled lightly, reaching out to take her hand, sitting up to keep his balance. "I will have what I've always wanted when you are my wife, and Catherine, Fabian and the baby are safe, when Graham has a steady job and a consistent smile on his face."

"But retire to play Mister Mom?"

"Well, I'd prefer to be Mister Dad, if you don't mind but, yes. There has to be some advantage to having a father who's old enough to be a grandfather," he finished wryly.

"I love you," she assured him, feeling in that moment that every atom in her body was bursting with love for this man. He pulled her to lie against him and she pillowed her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. "Where will we live?"

"The interrogation's not over?" he asked and she nipped him in response. "Very well, but kindly keep your fangs to yourself." She slapped him lightly on the chest and he chuckled, grabbing her hand and kissing the palm. "What's next?"

"Where will we live?" she repeated.

"Funny. I really am a chauvinist. I assumed you'd want to move into my house. Where do you want to live? Do want to buy a new house? Move away somewhere?"

"Your house sounds fine for now on one condition." She pushed up to look into his eyes. "We get rid of your couch and redecorate."

He pulled a look of feigned indignation. "That couch is very comfortable!"

"That couch is very ugly. We can find a new couch that is comfortable but doesn't make my eyes want to bleed."

He laughed in amusement. "Very well. What else do you hate about my decorating?"

"You didn't decorate that house. You hired someone in and then never bothered to change it," she accused.

"True. All right, I concede. You may do as you wish with the house as long as the new couch is comfortable and I get to leave my study as is. Agreed?"

She nodded. "Agreed. The banking?" He quirked a brow at her question. "Who will…"

The conversation went on throughout the afternoon as they discussed everything that a couple about to be married should discuss until they were both satisfied that they had a plan. Both were mature enough to realize that a plan could never cover the contingencies of real life but it did clear away about a thousand little arguments that now no longer needed to take place.

For supper, they wandered to Ruth's house and she set Harry to work preparing the casserole as she excused herself to change. Nervous in anticipation, Ruth showered and dressed, did her hair and makeup and completed the final preparations for her plan.

"Ruth!" Harry called, clearly wandering the flat looking for her, eventually tapping politely on her bedroom door. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine. Come in."

He opened the door, took one step through and froze. "You look beautiful! Is that a new dress? Your hair—" His mouth seemed to go dry and she blushed deeply at the desire thrumming across the space between them. "Wha—what's going on?" he asked, mystified.

"Supper," she replied mysteriously, stepping up to him, planting her hand on his chest and kissing him, leaving behind a residue of lipstick on the "Oh" still evident on his lips. "Come."

He followed obediently as she led him into the small dining room set out with china, crystal and candles. Leading him to his chair, she kissed him again, smiling at his bewilderment. Pulling her chair closer, she sat knee to knee with him.

Suddenly, guilt flooded his face. "Have I missed an important date?"

"Hush," she reprimanded. "Stop looking so guilty. You've done nothing wrong." He nodded and tried to relax his face. "Harry," she reached forward and took his hands. "You are and have always been my best friend. When I think of my life without you, milestones and accomplishments lose their meaning. Everything I do and everything I experience becomes wonderful when I share it with you. Never leave me." She slipped to her knees, reaching beneath a serviette and producing a gold watch. "I love you, Harry. Will you marry me?"

The candle light glinted off the moisture in Harry's eyes as he tentatively reached to take the gold watch, studying it. Across the crystal, delicately carved and entwined were the initials, HR, and on the back, engraved in script were the words, Ruth & Harry. He removed his watch and placed her gift on his wrist.

She slipped back onto her chair and reached beneath a second serviette and producing the velvet box, handing it to him and waiting patiently.

He opened the box slowly and his face flooded with wonder as he slipped to his knees before her. "Ru—" He cleared his throat to regain his voice, halted by emotion. "Ruth, you are the love of my life. Will you marry me?"

"Yes. A thousand times yes. A thousand and one times, yes," she concluded, accepting the deep blue sapphire onto her ring finger and slipping to the floor to wrap her arms around the man who was to become her husband.

The stove buzzer interrupted their joy and they slowly moved to stand, deciding that they at least needed to still the annoying sound.

"When Ruth?" Harry asked, drawing her into his arms once the casserole was removed from the oven.

"Tonight, if you're willing. It's all arranged."

He kissed her deeply, tracing his hands along her body, resting for a moment on her hip, her breast, her bottom, her back, her cheek, possessively caressing this remarkable woman, touching her as though she were a priceless treasure—and that was how he made her feel: adored; loved; treasured; desired.

By: Author, DC Shaftoe


	14. Chapter 14

"Are you certain that we're ready for this, Ruth?" Harry asked, his voice tight, his hands cold as Ruth held them in her own.

Studying him sympathetically, she turned to face him on the steps of the little country church. "We can wait if you want to Harry."

His gaze was distant, his body tense beneath his tuxedo. "I made such a hash of it the first time."

"Will you make the same mistakes again?"

He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the steps between them and then glancing to her eyes quickly and away again. "Will you run?" he asked quietly.

Anger shot to her heart but the pitiable look on his face dispersed it. Stepping into the warmth of his body, she took hold of his lapels and pulled herself up to his lips, kissing him lightly there until he bowed to her and drew her body tightly against him. When he released her, she replied, "I will never run from you again. I vow to you today, here before God and the universe, that I will be true to you, will behave in love to you in all joys and trials, will nurse you when you're ill and accept the same in return. I promise to argue with you when you're ideas are clearly incorrect—" Blatantly astonished, he met her gaze. _That's got his attention._ "I promise to listen to your arguments when you feel that I am wrong. I will bicker, contend, disagree, pettifog, quarrel, quibble, row, squabble, wrangle—" Harry laughed out loud and she saw the burden rise from his shoulders. "But I will not run. This is forever. Still interested?"

Chuckling happily, relief hanging from his eyelids, he promised, "Yes. A thousand times, yes. We'll figure this out together."

"Indeed. I love you, Harry."

"I love you, Ruth, from the heights of the heavens to the depths of the seas."

She smiled brightly in return, pulling matching white gold wedding rings from her handbag. "Then let's go put these on." Harry nodded, kissing her once again before taking her hand and leading her in, welcomed by a very pregnant Catherine, Fabian, Graham and Malcolm. Catherine stood up with Ruth and Graham stood up with Harry. There, before the witness of those who loved them most, they pledged—forever.

THE END


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue

(Begins at the end of Season 10, Episode 1)

"Excuse me?" Ruth said, her indignation blatantly obvious.

"Sasha Gavrik is my son," Harry repeated, hoping that if he said it calmly enough Ruth would accept the facts and ignore all the implications. _Vain hope_.

"And you didn't think that your wife needed to know that?" Ruth said. _Blast! _Ruth was clearly becoming angry, very angry. "Are there any other children you haven't told me about?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied simply.

She stood abruptly, slapping her palms against his desk. "Did you sleep with every female colleague and asset you've ever met? Were you ever faithful to your wife?"

Harry watched her bleakly from behind his desk. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth! Would it kill you to tell me the truth once in a while?" she said. He watched an angry flush rise up her neck to suffuse her cheeks. Her hands were clenched tightly at her side. He was in a bushel of trouble.

Harry moved to rise. "Sit!" she commanded. "Do not come near me."

"Ruth. Please," he said, holding his hands out to her in a gesture of supplication.

"No." She shook her head vehemently. "NO! I'm going to visit Catherine for a few days."

"I can't spare you right now, Ruth," he said, his voice breathy and low because he couldn't seem to draw breath past the tightness in his chest.

"Fine. Right. Job. Of course. I'll take a taxi home," Ruth said.

"Please let me drive you. Please," Harry said. _How do I fix this?_

"Only if you promise not to touch me or speak to me," Ruth said, her voice as grim as her outlook.

He nodded. What else could he do?

Harry drove them home in silence. Ruth spent the evening shut away in the office, hollering at him every time he knocked on the door whether it was to offer her tea or pass her the telephone.

Finally, at bedtime, she emerged. "You can sleep on the couch," she said.

Harry paled. _How can she still be so angry about this? _"Is this the end for us?" he asked quietly. "Something I did so many years ago?"

"It wasn't something, Harry," Ruth said. "It was a child. He is not the problem. A child is never a problem. But sleeping with a married woman? That is a problem."

"Thirty years ago," Harry said.

Ruth drew in a breath as though seeking to calm her temper enough to resist the urge to chuck him down the stairs. "It's not so much what you did thirty years ago. It's what you didn't do one year ago." Harry stared at her blankly. _What does that mean? _"You didn't tell me," Ruth said, clarifying her message.

"I thought there would never be a need," Harry replied.

"That…is no excuse," Ruth said and her words cracked like a whip. Harry could feel the impact and burn.

He moved closer, reaching for her hand but stopping before he touched her. "Ruth, I'm sorry. Ask me. Ask me anything you want to know. I'll tell you anything. Ruth, I don't want this to be the end."

[[****More?]]


	16. Chapter 16

I Don't Want This to be the End

Epilogue Part 2

"You're right."

Ruth turned from the supper she was preparing to find Harry standing behind her in all his misery. "Right about what?" she asked.

"I should have told you about Elena and Sasha. You had a right to know," he said. He turned to leave, hesitated and then continued out of the kitchen, whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Harry." She stopped his progress with a word. "Come here."

He obeyed, stopping a half-step away, eyes downcast.

"Do you know what bothered me the most?" she asked. He looked up to meet her gaze. "You didn't trust me," she said.

"It wasn't really that I didn't trust you, Ruth. It was more that…" His voice trailed off.

"What?" She wanted to know.

"It's very easy to understand why people leave me," he said. "I guess I thought if you knew how badly I've hurt the people in my life, you would leave me, too."

"Did you ever stop to think that perhaps you hurt the people who love you most by holding a piece of yourself away from them?" she asked.

"No one loves me, Ruth."

"I do," she said.

Without moving, it seemed, he had her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. "I love you, Ruth. So much that I simply don't know what to do with it all."

"I do. Let's retire, Harry. Let's leave the business of espionage to another generation. We could move away and buy a book shoppe and wile away our afternoons on the beach."

"You're ready to do that?" he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"In about seven and a half months, I won't have a choice."

"What….do you mean…are you…?"

"Yes, Harry. And that makes this your opportunity to get it right."


	17. Chapter 17

I Don't Want This to be The End: So Let's Try a New Beginning

Part 1

Ten days until Christmas and Harry was still looking for the perfect gift for his very pregnant wife. She didn't want jewellery or perfume and had threatened him with certain death if he bought her a kitchen appliance.

"Lifetime supply of Blendz Coffee?" Harry murmured to himself as he walked down West Broadway Avenue in Vancouver, BC. "Kidsbooks?" Harry paused outside the unfamiliar book store. "Yes, of course. A gift card for a children's book store."

When Harry re-entered the street, he was satisfied that he'd found a gift which would please Ruth. _Books for our children, the perfect gift…unless she plans to start reading Nietzsche and Tao Te Ching to the twins. _He chuckled to himself. _She recited Ovid's works to them already. _

Harry walked back toward the University of British Columbia where he was planning to meet Ruth. Today was her last lecture before her maternity leave began. The fact that the School of Library, Archival and Information Studies had offered Ruth a permanent teaching and research position even though she was obviously pregnant was a testament to the brilliance of his wife. Harry himself spent his days as a part-time assistant in UBC's Museum of Anthropology. _Far removed from espionage. I love it._

After a few blocks, Harry decided to hop a bus to the University. He and Ruth were becoming much more fit, walking whenever possible, but it was still a long way to Ruth and he didn't fancy being exhausted when he arrived. He took a seat near the back door and forced himself not to scan the interior of the city bus for enemies, allies and the suspicious. _I'm not a spook any more,_ he reminded himself.

"Harry. How are you?" a very nervous but familiar and heavily-accented voice spoke.

Harry looked the few feet away to the back seats of the bus. "Ivan. Are you on your way to the Museum?" Ivan Rogov was a fellow part-timer at MOA. He and Harry had shared lunch a few times.

"No. Yes. No!" The second negative was much different from the first. Harry followed Ivan's gaze to three gentlemen who had just boarded the bus; though "gentlemen" was clearly not a fitting title. Striding directly toward the rear, the dangerous-looking men kept their gazes firmly fixed on Ivan.

"Ivan?" Harry questioned, looking back and forth between his colleague and the men.

Ivan lurched to his feet, tripping and falling against Harry, pinning him to his seat. And then, before Harry could do or say one more thing, Ivan slammed through the rear doors of the bus, rolling as he landed on the street. Two of the men followed him. One remained behind. Turning back from his view of the street through the bus window, Harry looked down the barrel of a handgun.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Stepping out of the Irving K. Barber Learning Centre, Ruth turned left, walking along East Mall toward the Museum of Anthropology. _Where is Harry? I thought he was going to meet me._ She continued down the pavement—_sidewalk_, she reminded herself. One of her students had coined the term "Atlantic Vocabulary Gap" to describe the cultural and linguistic dyssynchronies which Ruth was clearly experiencing now that she and Harry had settled in Vancouver.

_Perhaps Harry became preoccupied by some new exhibit at the Museum. He is apt to do so._ Ruth continued across Chancellor Boulevard and descended to the Museum. She greeted the attendant at the information desk.

"Hello, Frank. How are you today?" Ruth said.

"I'm well, Mrs. Pearce. You're looking lovely," the ninety year old Frank replied, a definite flirtatious glint in his clear blue eyes. He was tall and slender and straight as an arrow in spite of his age.

"Have you seen Harry today?" she asked.

"Your young man was in earlier but he left shortly before lunch. I understood that he was planning to do some Christmas shopping for his lovely wife," Frank replied.

"You were likely not meant to tell me that," she reprimanded him with a smile.

"Likely." Frank grinned, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Would you like me to see you home?"

_That would be quite a sight…the geriatric and the blimp._ "No, thank you. St. Andrew's is only a few streets away. But, if you do see Harry, could you please tell him that I started home without him?"

"Certainly. Have a good evening."

"Thank you. You as well." Ruth gave a little wave to the young student manning the gift shoppe and waddled back across Chancellor to Iona and the St. Andrew's Residence where the University had provided a room for Harry and Ruth until they bought a house…or condominium. It was looking more and more like that was going to be the answer to their housing needs. A house close to the university was going to be very expensive.

"Ruth."

Ruth spun at the quiet sound of her name. "Who's there?" she asked, fisting her house keys and searching the front stoop for a second weapon.

"Ruth. Help me."

Ruth stepped forward. "Harry?"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"No, Ruth. It's John Brock. I need to speak with Harry."

"John? What are you doing here?" Ruth asked. "Aren't you meant to be doing Harry's job?"

John smiled ruefully. "I'm trying, though I've been interrupted by a journey to Burma and a new wife."

"A wife? You, John?" Ruth said, utterly astonished. "Sorry, but…of all the men…I never expected…" Her voice trailed off.

Chuckling, John replied, "I understand completely. Frankly, I don't know what she sees in me but I'm certainly not planning to argue."

"Come in and tell me all about it," Ruth said, finally managing to open the door. "Harry is Christmas shopping but I expect him back at any moment. His tolerance for store personnel is quite limited."

Ruth set about making tea, dropping a few chocolate biscuits on a plate and placing them in front of the Head of Counter-terrorism for MI-5, John Brock, the man with a heart of iron.

Scooping loose tea into a stainless steel mesh tea ball, Ruth dropped it into the pot. "So, your wife," she began slowly.

"Caroline," John said.

_Typical spook,_ Ruth mused. _Never gives away more information than is absolutely necessary._ "Where did you meet?"

"In Burma," John replied. "We were cellmates, in fact."

"Cellmates?" Ruth exclaimed. Her next question was interrupted by her mobile. _Ack_. Cell phone, here in Canada. It was from Harry.

.999.

Ruth's gasp brought John to her side. "What does bus fourteen mean?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious. "Is that the transit number?"

"I think…." Ruth tried to reboot her brain. "Yes. We take the #14 down West Broadway to the uni. Gun. He says there's a gun."

"999. He does realize that emergency services are 911 here?" John asked.

"No. He always forgets. Oh, Harry," she said, trying to call his number. Her gaze returned to John. "He's not answering."

"Call the police. Tell them there's a gunman on Bus 14. Text Harry and tell him that I'm on my way," John said, retrieving his Glock from his shoulder holster and checking it. And then he was off at a run.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The view down the barrel of a handgun hadn't changed much in the past year. The man holding it, all bulk and body odour and wearing a filthy black jogging suit, had the same blank expression in his eyes of so many low-level criminals.

Harry shifted in his seat, testing the Bulk's focus. Distracted for a moment, Harry caught a glimpse of the same movement that had the Bulk leaning forward, bracing himself on the overhead bar. That moment was long enough.

Harry kicked out, snapping the Bulk's knee backward, and followed up by knocking the gun out of his hand. Diving for the weapon, Harry came down hard on his side. Midnight black darkened his vision as his lungs fought the spasm which robbed them of air.

"I had enough of you, old man."

Harry heard the words followed by the click of a cocking mechanism. _I'm not __**that**__ old! _Indignation fought a battle with apprehension as Harry looked up to meet the glacial green eyes of a very familiar face. Gus, the driver of Bus 14.

"Weeks, now, you been ridin' my bus, actin' like you belong here. Whatever yer plannin', it ain't gonna work," Gus said and Harry had a ridiculous urge to laugh. _My bus driver is a terrorist?_

"I'm not planning anything, Gus. I'm retired," Harry replied from his position on the floor of the bus, his hands open, palms outward in a gesture of surrender.

"Everybody off the bus," the Bulk said. He was back on his feet, waving an AK-47 around. Harry assumed that Gus had a cache of weapons beneath his seat.

The formerly shocked patrons were screaming now and rushing down the stairs and out the doors of the number 14 bus. That left the Bulk, a woman in a pink velour jogging suit carrying an AK-47, and Gus with his Smith & Wesson pressed against Harry's temple.

"We got Rogov. He used t' work fer the communists. You old spies think you can come and set up shop in our country. But yer wrong," Gus said, stepping back and gesturing for Harry to rise. "And me and the _FOI _ain't gonna let you go free."

Gus called toward the pink-suited woman. "Jeanie, cover him 'till I get us out o' here." The woman in the pink jogging suit moved into position to cover Harry as Gus returned to the front of the bus.

Harry heard his mobile register a "message received" but he didn't dare take the chance of checking.

"Siddown," Jeanie said, jamming the butt of her rifle into Harry's ribs.

Harry complied, his hands in the air.

"Hey, open the door." A vaguely American baritone called through the closed bus doors, accompanied by a furious pounding.

"I'm out of service," Gus hollered back.

"What? What did you say? Open this door!" The pounding increased in intensity.

"I'm out of service," Gus repeated, yelling louder.

"What? What?" the man outside demanded to know.

Gus slammed his palm against the steering wheel, releasing a creative stream of profanity, as he opened the door an inch.

Harry knew the saying, "give him an inch and he'll take a mile" and so did the man outside. The doors flew apart and none other than John Brock entered the bus, his arm extended, a Glock in his hand pointed directly between Gus' eyes.

"Hello, Harry," John said in his _best British_ while keeping his gaze on Gus.

"Hello, John. What brings you to Vancouver?" Harry said.

"You ain't gonna—" Gus began raising his handgun. John charged up the stairs, knocking the weapon aside and flattening Gus on the floor, kneeling between his shoulder blades.

"Ah, geddoff, geddoff!" Gus yelled.

Harry responded at the first hint of John's attack, clenching his fists together and bringing them up under Pinky's gun arm. The rifle went flying, tracing an arc above their heads. Harry stepped up on a powder blue bus seat and reached, snagging the AK-47 from mid-air.

The Bulk charged toward Harry, brought up short at the barrel of Harry's rifle. Harry heard Pinky unsheathe a knife but before the sharp point penetrated his skin, John reacted. "Freeze!" John said and Harry heard the squeak of Pinky's running shoes as she skidded to a halt.


End file.
